


Song Wars

by ABrighterDarkness



Series: OYL Bingo [18]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Humor, M/M, Music, Playlist, Road Trips, Sam Wilson is So Done, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:54:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24112372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ABrighterDarkness/pseuds/ABrighterDarkness
Summary: Sam had been so fed up with the skipping and missing half of the songs -- really good songs! -- that the rule had been out of his mouth before he could think twice about it.  He should have taken Steve’s easy agreement for the warning it was. Sam really, really ought to have known that rule would be starting a war.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson
Series: OYL Bingo [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567447
Comments: 7
Kudos: 35
Collections: On Your Left - SamSteve Bingo





	Song Wars

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SamSteve Bingo square - Favorite Song
> 
> I had a _lot_ of fun with this one and I really hope that you enjoy!!

Driving across the country, hunting down Hydra base after Hydra base, left Sam and Steve in each other's company for far more hours at a time than either man had been used to spending with another person. That kind of ‘together time’ taught a man a lot about their traveling companion. Habits: good, bad, and strangely endearing. 

Sam had learned that Steve got unusually chatty about the most random things if they drove for more than a couple of hours without a break. It was almost as though the excess energy he’d built up from staying still in close quarters had decided that the best outlet was through the man’s mouth. Within the first couple of weeks, Sam had heard some truly ridiculous things come out of that particular mouth. He learned quickly to hit at least one rest stop every other hour, even for just a few minutes, unless he wanted to hear some really bizarre facts that he couldn’t even begin to guess the origins of. 

He’d learned, after a particularly rough mission--a Hydra base that had far more people than Romanov’s intel had hinted at--that Steve only seemed to snore when his body was recovering from injuries. And when he snored...the man  _ snored. _ Sam finally understood why the women he had worked with previously had frequently joked about the desire to smother their partners. He had to admit, it was a tempting option.

Sam had also come to the unsettling understanding that Steve’s trust wasn’t given as freely as he had originally believed. He thought he could be forgiven for his misunderstanding, considering the man showed up at his doorstep on the run from...well,  _ everyone _ after only even speaking to him twice. No, Steve Rogers was reckless but not with his trust. It had taken him weeks to come to terms with that. Nevermind that he had that same automatic instinct. And it wasn’t entirely because of the whole Captain America thing, though Sam could admit that it had played a role, at least initially. The rest of it, though, was just Steve. Sam was painfully aware that Steve Rogers had earned his loyalty and his trust far more than Captain America ever could. Because he had also learned in their travels together that Steve Rogers and Captain America were two very different men even if they were technically the same person.

For all the interesting -- and surprisingly endearing -- things that Sam had learned about Steve while they wove their way through the country, there was one thing -- just one -- that drove Sam absolutely nuts more than anything else. More than the ridiculous chattiness, more than the snoring, more than the awkward attempts at flirting. 

The man simply could not leave a playlist be. 

He was constantly skipping songs --  _ good songs --  _ and switching back and forth between Sam’s carefully selected playlists to regular radio -- which they couldn’t receive signal for in most of the rural areas. He seemed to be constantly jumping between one thing and another. Barely leaving time for one song to actually play the whole way through before he was switching to something else. 

So, on their third week on the road, Sam implemented a rule. I don’t skip out on your favorites and you don’t skip out on mine. __

He should have known better.

He had long since learned that rules were more of a challenge to Steve Rogers than something he actually intended to follow. 

But Sam had been so fed up with the skipping and missing half of the songs --  _ really good songs! --  _ that the rule had been out of his mouth before he could think twice about it. He should have taken Steve’s easy agreement for the warning it was. Sam really, really ought to have known that rule would be starting a war. 

At first, he’d been almost convinced that it had worked. He’d walked Steve through the necessary steps to set up his own playlist and then gamely made  _ another _ list that combined their choices together. It seemed like a suitable compromise for the song flipping, and for the first few days, it had been perfect. Start the car, randomize the playlist, and go. 

Sam could begrudgingly admit that there wasn’t anything particularly  _ wrong _ with Steve’s song choices. They weren’t  _ bad  _ songs. Sam had been pleasantly surprised that the entire playlist was an interesting blend of songs from Steve’s original time all the way through to the present day. He hadn’t realized that he had gotten so far in catching up with popular music. It wasn’t the  _ songs _ that were the problem.

It was the singing.

Sam couldn’t claim to be the most top notch vocalist out there either, but he would have to seriously  _ try _ to be able to sing that badly. The man probably could have gone on American Idol -- irony? -- and given that William Hung guy a run for his money if he’d gotten out of the ice a few years earlier.

So not only was Sam stuck listening to  _ Barbie Girl, _ he was also stuck listening to Steve attempting to sing falsetto to  _ Barbie Girl. _ No man with that deep of a voice should be trying to sing falsetto without some sort of training or something. Seriously, there were only so many times a guy can hear screechy, way off-key attempts at singing  _ “I’m a Barbie girl in a Barbie World” _ from the man that was his childhood idol once upon a time.

Of course, hours later he’d still find himself humming the damned song under his breath. 

It didn’t stop there. Of course it didn’t. This was  _ Steve Rogers. _ Anything positive that Sam might have once felt toward Lady Gaga or Katy Perry had gone up in smoke. Or had gone out the window along with Steve’s poor attempts at singing along with them. 

90’s boy bands? Oh, come on, how did he even find out about those?

It took an embarrassingly long time for Sam to catch on, but when he did, it was obvious what was really going on. Everytime they stopped for the night, Steve would ask to update his list. Sam agreed because, let’s face it, the man had to still be discovering all sorts of stuff every day. Then, he’d notice that Steve spent a little more time than was normal with his phone in hand before adding songs to his list, and every time he had that smug, shit-eating grin on his face.

The man had backup. It wasn’t just coincidence. Sam’s money was on Romanoff.

Okay then. That’s how they were gonna play it, huh?

Alright. Game on.

Sam knew he wasn’t up to screech away like Steve was. Not only did just thinking about it make his head and throat ache, he also knew that wasn’t the way he was going to win this thing. Instead of following Steve’s example of pure obnoxiousness, Sam suppressed a smirk as he added a long list of more  _ suggestive _ songs to his own, which he had originally left out, out of respect for Steve’s comfort. But as far as Sam was concerned, the man had brought this on himself.

He had to admit that it had been incredibly,  _ intensely _ satisfying to witness Steve react to the new additions to his lineup. Sam was sure that he was never going to forget having front row seats the first time  _ Strokin’ _ played. Steve had sat back in his seat at the first beat of an unfamiliar song, head tilted to the side as he listened, all earnest curiosity in a way that he’d only ever seen Steve manage. And then the blush. Oh boy, did he blush. Hairline to shirt collar. 

Madonna had gotten some pretty epic reactions too, for that matter.

But then, because this was Steve Rogers and the man couldn’t turn down a challenge if his life depended on it, Steve started singing. Again. And not even  _ good  _ singing. 

Granted, bad singing or not, Sam wished that he had thought to record him singing Like A Virgin. That would’ve gone viral even in the five minutes it would have taken Romanoff to pull it from the internet. 

Mid-way through a half-hummed, half-screeched rendition of Divinyls’  _ I Touch Myself,  _ that apparently didn’t cause the tomato-red blush after the first time listening, Sam realized that if he was going to win this thing, he was going to have to bring out the big guns. At the next stop they reached, Sam dipped out for a few hours under the guise of picking up supplies, and did some research.

Sam got back into the car the next morning with an updated playlist and tried not to look too smug. Hopefully, if any of his amusement  _ did _ show through, Steve would be expecting more of the same. They kicked off the playlist and Sam could tell that they were both anticipating the continuation of this game...war...whatever it was.

And then it happened.

_ Who's strong and brave, here to save the American Way?  _ _ Who vows to fight like a man for what's right night and day? _

“Oh, Sam, no,” Steve groaned, lunging towards the radio.

Sam quickly batted his hand away and slyly hit the song repeat button, “Nuh uh, you know the rules, Rogers, sit your ass back.”

_ Who will campaign door-to-door for America?  _ _ Carry the flag shore to shore for America _

Steve groaned again, his head falling back against the headrest. “Where the hell did you even find this?”

_ From Hoboken to Spokane, The Star Spangled Man with a Plan!” _ Sam sang along dramatically, unable to keep down the smug grin. 

“You can’t seriously tell me this is one of your favorite songs,” Steve protested.

“What? Like Poker Face is one of yours?” Sam said challengingly.

“I happen to think it’s catchy,” Steve said stubbornly.

“Uh huh. Right,” Sam snorted. “And the boy bands? You like them too?”

“Something wrong with that?” Steve challenged.

“Nope,” Sam shrugged. “Just like there’s nothing wrong with me liking the--” he smirked and continued singing along with the song, “ _ Star Spangled Man with a Plan.” _

“Ugh,” Steve grumbled. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Sam shrugged, all too satisfied by his victory, even if it was only temporary. It was the first time either of them had actually tried to change a song since the rule had been implemented though, so Sam definitely counted that as a win. “But I’m pretty sure this means that I win.”

Steve was about to argue, it was obvious. Probably something to the effect of it not being an actual challenge so there was no actual winning or losing. He froze though when the song ended and immediately started up again.

“Oh, come on,” Steve groaned again, leaning forward once again to try to change the song.

“Nuh-uh,” Sam grinned, shoving his hand away. “We don’t skip songs, remember?”

Steve just gaped at him for a moment and then huffed a laugh, shaking his head slowly in disbelief. “I still wanna know where you found that. That sounds like the original.”

“It is,” Sam grinned smugly.

“Then how--,” Steve cut himself off, eyes narrowing. “Tony.” Sam didn’t bother giving an answer, just shrugged and tapped his fingers against the steering wheel in time with the song. Suddenly, Steve was laughing. One of those full-body, head tilted backwards, and arms-wrapped-around-his-stomach-to-brace-himself type of laughs that Sam probably never would tire of hearing. 

“Okay,” Steve grinned cheekily when his laughter began to calm. “Okay, I’ll be your favorite, Sam. I think I can handle that.”

“As long as that doesn’t include your singing,” Sam bantered back.

“What’s wrong with my singing?” Steve demanded in mock affront.

“Other than that you can’t sing? Nothing,” Sam snorted.

“I can sing,” Steve argued.

“Sure,” Sam smirked. “Just not very well.”

“Wanna bet?” Steve said with an all too familiar challenging expression.

Sam narrowed his eyes consideringly, flicking a glance from the road in front of them over to Steve and back again, “What are we betting?”

“By the end of the day I’ll prove that I can sing,” Steve smirked. “If you still think I can’t, we’ll listen to nothing but your playlist for the next week. I won’t touch it.”

“And if you win?” Sam asked suspiciously. Steve just shrugged, that familiar expression still firmly in place. “What? You want me to write a blank check for ‘if’ you win?”

“You don’t really believe that I’m going to, so what’s the harm?” Steve asked, brow arched though his expression twitched slightly when the song started over again. 

“Nope. Nuh Uh, not happening,” Sam said, shaking his head. “I know you. I’m not giving away a freebie. Nope.”

Steve just laughed, “How about you get the option to shoot down up to three options?”

Sam considered it and then shrugged. “Fine, you’re on,” he smirked and then winced. 

What the hell was he getting himself into  _ now? _


End file.
